awe.

seriously; this place and me....we have a thing. no longer a frozen copse of trees.

aflame. dingoes. brolgas. mist. sunrise.

no pictures of the dingo or brolga... trust it was real.

here in the wild

.
this love stays divine
exempt of conditions. no creature fear
.

capital

...

love was a promise made of smoke
in a frozen copse of trees

light leaves

Sky is womb and she's the moon

listen to music you have never heard before. play it until you know the lyrics back to front. then share it with other people. and if the opportunity presents itself; you should sing it loudly out of the rolled down window of your car with the wind in your face. or sit quietly and watch the moon rise blood red, humming something pretty that stays in your ears for days.

texture

harsh stark space
fields that fell from grey clouds.
pieces of fence poke from the soil
sewn into a patchwork of voids.

bleak beauty drawn and inked out over time